Finding Purpose
by Pumpkinshota
Summary: A Hunter x Hunter Robot AU. Killua is mankind's last hope to expand on a poisoned planet ravaged by mutated creatures. Unfeeling, Killua obeys as he was programmed to do. Upon meeting Gon, however, Killua begins to question both his own existence and how much humanity really understands the world. (M for gore)
1. Chapter 1

Activating Program…

"It's finally time to wake 'it' up. Our last hope…"

Initializing KIL0003…

There was a murmur of sound among the crowd of people hovering around a child-like figure, strapped to a chair so it was unable to move of it's own volition. Each person is ducking to see the miracle of life which they have created in the most artificial of environments. The robot child they called the saving light of humanity. One who could endure harsh environments, radiation, and brutal fights without shutting down.

"Once it goes out there and kills them off, we can go back right?"

The question goes unanswered as a whirring sound comes from the spinning blue core of the figure. The very power source that would be sustaining the robot in it's ventures outside.

Program initialized. Good morning KILLUA.

Closed eyes open and reveal cerulean optics, far brighter than any naturally occurring eye colour. Hazily, they scan the crowd in front of them. The multitude of faces all look in awe as the robot shifts it's head about, taking in it's surroundings with the curiosity of what he appeared most to be. A young child.

"Good morning Killua. How do you feel?", one of the men in white coats asks, offering a small smirk that does nothing to cover up the cockiness present. Killua watches him for a moment, scanning through his definitions of the word 'feel'.

Feel - verb - A sensation of emotion or physical touch.

"I am… Alive." Killua says, his voice seeming foreign and dry; though not particularly robotic as one might expect.

Strange as it was to Killua, just speaking one sentence sent the whole crowd into a roar of excitement. It's followed by pats on the back and the shaking of hands among one another, while all he does is watch with a fascinated curiosity.

The talk goes on to how the world is now saved and how this one robot would be the one who brought peace back to the outside. "It' will save us all', they say to each other while some have tears in their eyes.

However, Killua is mostly unconcerned by the goings on around him. He looks to his hands, bound to the chair by thick steel bindings. His feet are bound identically, as if they assume that he will automatically lash out and attempt attacking. He tests his clawed fingers out, moving them all one by one experimentally. Everything functions perfectly.

A quick glance in the mirror reveals Killua's own appearance to himself. He would look almost human if his face wasn't as pale as a ghost. His bare chest is just as pale, but below that where his stomach area would be, a large glowing blue center spins around and around in a hypnotic circle. His legs are like that of a human's legs, but the base - the area here his feet were - flattened outwards and much wider than a human's feet would.

No, no, to say that he's alive isn't entirely true then. It clicks within his head - within his database - that he's not an organic life form. Of the many, many photos of organic life that flash past his vision in a frenzy, none of them match anything similar to what he looks like.

By the definition programmed within him, only organic life forms are considered 'living'. So, he's not truly alive is he? Has he just told a lie?

So comes the first problematic thought of his.

"Doctor?" Killua's voice is less foreign sounding now, as if he's calibrated himself upon hearing it just the one time.

Several of the white-coated men in the room stop what they're doing and look to Killua, a glimmer of curiosity mingled with cocky pride still present upon their faces.

"Yes, what is it? Do you have a question for us, Killua?" One of the doctors pipes up and many of the others finally stop and turn to watch.

Killua's focus, which had been trained upon the doctors, drifts back to the mirror behind them. He closes his eyes, not sure if he wants to see himself again or not. His own appearance brings him the strangest 'sensation', which he attributes to being unsure of how to see himself in the first place.

"What does it mean to be alive? Do I live?"

The murmur among the doctors is back. Killua's enhanced hearing catches mutters of "What did 'it' say?" and "'It' is already questioning it's life?" and finally "I have a bad feeling about this. Something going out of line like that already needs to be scrapped and redone." The almost hurtful words are silenced quickly by a sharp glare sent to the back. The doctor addressing him speaks up once again.

"To be alive is to have a soul within you. You have an artificial soul, so you are alive because of us. You should thank us."

He should… Thank them. The thoughts processed incredibly fast, working through numerous definitions of words, slang, meanings, and everything that had been programmed into him for his job. He needed to be able to communicate back to the scientists when he had successfully completed his mission of destroying the outside contaminants.

But, to thank someone meant that he held gratitude towards them for what they did. Could he even feel gratitude? In what ways could he express gratitude? Was he happy to have been created?

And what was happiness? A feeling of contentment, a feeling of joy? He couldn't feel these things. There was nothing but the dull whirring in his stomach that reminded him that he wasn't completely devoid of sensation all together. Emotional sensation, however, he 'knew' he was devoid of. Not even a false, artificial set of emotions had been programmed within him.

So what they were asking of him, by logical deduction, was impossible for him to respond to reasonably. He couldn't feel gratitude for what they had done to him. Nor could he feel anything that resembled happiness for being created and being given 'life'. So, he had nothing to thank them for in the end.

With no reason to linger on it, he simply said what he thought.

"No. I will not thank you. I don't feel gratitude. I don't feel anything. If you killed me, I would still feel nothing. There is nothing… Nothing…"

Killua trails off, as if pondering over his own words. If they shut him down right here and then, he doubted he would feel any differently. He would simply cease to exist, just like before he had been created. And the same was true for humans, was it not?

As he thinks it over, he doesn't notice the rage his words elicit from the scientist who had talked to him from the start. Not until his chin is aggressively grabbed and he is forced to stare directly into deep grey-blue eyes. He hardly reacts to the treatment, only staring as harsh words are spat into his face.

"Look here." Killua's head slams back against the wall as the doctor shoves him back. His body goes limp, but the whirring in his stomach goes on. "We created you to work for us and to be grateful to us for giving you your life. You can be grateful to us for that, now can't you?"

The man lets go of Killua's face and backs up.

"We're not about to send a robot with a fickle attitude out there to be the savior of mankind. We'll fix you until you're 'right'."

The room went completely silent at this outburst. Though Killua's body was completely limp and his eyes were shut, it wasn't hard to tell that he was just fine. After all, he had been created to endure the worst of the worst. Not a single person went to check and make sure he was alright, only quietly talking among themselves about 'serves the thing right talking to us like that'.

"Go on, get out of here! We need to fix 'it' ASAP." The scientist who had pushed Killua into the wall shouted at his co-workers. They heeded his warning and began to exit the room in a flurry of movement.

Off they went to prepare a room that would be used for the reprogramming process, where they would set up all the necessary equipment for doing so. First to go would be many of the definitions of emotions, so that he would blindly follow their orders without looking through his database of what was a correct response.

They would correct him and put a block on anything that could potentially cause him to rebel against them. Their previous robots had been almost completely a success, but they lacked the technology needed to last more than a couple years. They had also lacked the capability to tell enemy from ally, as the robots had at some point become rogue and attacked the creators themselves.

Yet all of these plans they were making for fixes were halted.

The sickening sound of steel bending and ripping from hinges echoed in the bright, white room. When Killua's gaze re-alligned with the remaining people in the room, they weren't the same cerulean colour as before. Now they were a deep, menacing red colour.

He didn't speak a single word as his clawed hands ripped from his restraints, his feet making no work of the bottom ones at all. He stood up and tested his arms. He withdrew his hand into himself and made way for a small, tubular gun-like device. Silently, he made his way towards the people still scrambling to get out of the way, tripping over one another in the process.

Screams echoed in the room and the hallway thereafter, but it did nothing to stop the resulting chaos. Body after body fell to the floor with a single indentation in each of their foreheads, blood flowing onto the floor in small puddles all around.

"There's a reason they left." He quietly says to himself as he stepped over each of the bodies and made his way through the corridors. When another met his path and saw that he was covered in blood, she screamed and ran in the opposite direction. He didn't stop her, walking onward to the exit.

The exit wasn't far ahead of him. The man on guard was big and bulky, holding a weapon that looked a lot like a taser. Peering around the corner, Killua shot - and he hit his target with deadly accuracy. He went down, bleeding out from the chest. Killua scanned the area to see if there were any others coming after him and, once dubbing it was safe, went to the exit door.

It was locked, but Killua made no work of it with his incredible strength. A sharp kick to the metal broke the lock clean off. He pushed the door open and walked outside, where no humans dared to go anymore because of the radiation levels and the creatures that loomed threateningly. The sunlight was harsh and overhead, birds three times larger than most adult humans flew uninhibited.

"Definition Update: Living - A term used for organic forms that use substances to create chemical reactions. Also used for inorganic forms that have a soul. Does not require gratitude."

Killua left off into the mutated forests to begin his mission.


	2. Chapter 2

Scanning for threats…

The outside world had become a twisted, mutated place where danger lurked everywhere.

Killua was one of humanity's last hopes. In his creation, he had been programmed with three main goals: To kill, to scavenge, and to create.

To kill meant to destroy the large threats of the outside world; those of whom could potentially endanger the humans. To scavenge entailed bringing back sustenance and useful materials for the humans to use. And finally, to create entailed building new habitable zones for the humans to move to.

The population had finally begun to spiral out of control in the habitable environments that they had available. It was Killua's ultimate mission to allow the expansion of humans across the wrecked globe once more.

This was his purpose.

Threat detected! Threat detected!

A trail of destruction followed Killua wherever he went.

For each animal that turned up on his radar, he targeted them immediately and with an inhuman swiftness. His sleek, metallic claws were stained with blood as he leaped from tree to tree, slashing open his prey or snapping their necks in one sharp, powerful movement.

It was a one-sided massacre, leaving the bodies of the grotesque animals littering the ground in lifeless heaps.

He was doing just as he was programmed. Despite the killings of the scientists who had created him, his programming remained the same. He had no other reason to exist other than to serve what humanity's will had been for him. With a certain lack of free will for himself, he simply didn't care. As if acting off of 'instinct', he went on with his mission.

It was what made him efficient and all too perfect for his task. He held no regard for himself or for the creatures around him.

Scanning…

The forest was eerily silent, with only the sounds of birds chirping and water flowing gently in the background. The sun had set at some point during Killua's rampage. Now it was shining again, high above him in the sky with unrelenting heat.

No Threats detected.

Killua's fighting stance finally let up. Glancing down at his hands and body, discoloured and red now, he registered that he should cleanse himself of the contaminants on him.

With solid steps along the uneven ground - and whilst dodging around the many gnarled roots that stood out attempting to trip him - he made his way to the riverbank.

The greenish tinted water slowly made its' way downstream, reflecting the world on its gently rippling surface. It was difficult to see more than a few inches inside the murky depths. The only obvious things present were the smooth rocks that peaked just above the surface, being continually drenched by the incoming torrents.

Kneeling down, Killua stared and once more saw his reflection; inorganic and strange. Similar, yet so unlike his human counterparts. His pale features lent him an appearance of the deceased, as he noticed more up-close than before.

What did it really mean to be as he was? He was so similar to humans, yet he lacked even the basic understanding of what free will meant.

Why is this?

Killua didn't know the answer and pushed it aside.

He broke his image in the water by dipping his hands into it, turning it a pinkish red. His feet and soon his body followed suit, washing away any traces of the fights he'd been in. All the way up to his face, he bathed in the water, processing what had occurred to him regarding his existence.

He didn't feel it coming until it latched onto his arm, rolling in the water in an attempt of ripping it from his body.

By 'instinct', he pulled his arm from the creature's mouth with some force, dragging out with the limb quite a few razor sharp teeth. As Killua moved backwards in the water, ignoring the damage done to his arm, he finally caught glimpse at what had attacked him.

It was large and reptilian of nature, with slitted eyes that peaked just above the water. A wide, gaping mouth then exposed itself, showing off numerous rows of deadly teeth.

It was a crocodile. Much larger in nature than any book of the past would identify.

Even with Killua's strength and dexterity, the water bogged him down and inhibited his movements. The massive lizard came at him far faster than he could move in the water, prompting him to blindly lash out with his claws before he was struck. Against the rough hide along the top and side of the creature's body, however, his attack did almost nothing.

And then it stopped as soon as Killua prepared to lose one or two of his limbs.

Atop the crocodile stood a figure that looked rather unsightly compared to Killua himself. He, however, could tell immediately that it was a robot, just like himself, judging by the glaringly obvious traits.

One of their arms hung limply at their side, dangling by a few bits of partially severed wiring. Within the obvious clockwork joints, pieces of foliage grew and stuck out noticeably. Finally, the figure's 'hair' stuck up like an awkward pine cone and his entire body appeared to be completely rusted all over.

Killua watched in complete confusion as the robot looked down at the crocodile with bright, piercing green eyes, and began to stomp around with some force. He flailed his arm once or twice, and then stomped once more right above the crocodile's eye.

Much to Killua's 'amazement', the creature began to back down, moving to the riverbank where it allowed the other robot to gently step off. Afterwards, it vanished below the surface of the water.

Killua didn't waste a moment, climbing back to land none too gracefully. In almost all cases, Killua should both be pursuing his escaped target and now targeting the strange robot who stood in front of him as a potential threat. Yet, neither occurred. It was safe to say, by definition, he was interested in what had just happened and such interest overwrote his primary goal.

According to everything he knew, nothing that had just happened made any sense.

By all logic, after all, Killua should still be fighting a losing battle and the other robot should surely be nothing but scraps after such a bold move. Yet, neither was true.

The other, upon getting close enough, appeared 'male' in creation. He had a boyish appearance akin to Killua's, only much less high-tech comparatively. His features weren't as smooth as Killua's, being more pointed and strongly defined. The other was somewhat shorter than Killua, however, so it was in his own assumption that they had been created in image of a child, just as he himself had been.

What attracted his attention the most, however, was that their core wasn't in the same place as his own, nor did it act the same. A somewhat small, red orb seemed to thrum and beat in the other's chest, quite unlike the whirring and spinning Killua's did in his stomach.

It was the first time Killua had ever seen another robot, and they couldn't possibly be more different so far as appearances went.

"How… Did you do that earlier," Killua finally asked after taking in the other robot's features. "And do you have a name?"

There was no response other than a curious blinking and a shake of his head. He waved his functional hand at his throat and then shook his head again, looking around.

It took Killua a moment to process what was being said. "You can't speak?"

He nods and picks up a stick from the nearby ground. He began to drag it across the dirt, prompting Killua to meet his side and see what was being drawn.

'Im Gon :)' is scribbled in the dirt sloppily. Gon looks up at Killua and smiles, just like his small picture depicts.

Such a subtle thing as the tiniest hint of emotion truly catches Killua off guard. It was unexpected and unusual. Being inhuman, they should be incapable of emotions by all aspects. It was fascinating and curious. In response, Killua attempted to mimic the expression, only succeeding in a slight, lopsided smirk.

"Gon… How did you do that earlier when that creature attacked me?" Killua pointed one of his clawed fingers to the river.

Gon pauses and then turns to draw in the dirt once again.

'They like me. I like them. Friends. They listen.'

It was the first time Killua considered the mere idea that the animals in the outside world could feel or understand anything outside of the instinct to kill everything around them. His programming told him that all animals were without emotion and only contained bloodlust. That they must be exterminated.

Had he not seen Gon earlier, he would believe this programming to be the complete truth. Yet, now…

"…How do they understand? I don't get it."

Gon shrugged his shoulders, not giving a definitive answer to the question. He proceeded to step on what he had written previous and re-write over the flattened ground.

'Whats your name? Will you be my friend too?'

Friend - A mutual bond of affection.

Were they even truly capable of such things? He didn't know, but after the display earlier, he was curious to find out more about the world and about his own internal programming. He wanted to know what else was flawed and needed reworking.

The biggest flaw in him humans had made was giving him the capability of curiosity - of wanting to learn about the world and his surroundings.

Overwrite program?

"…Sure. It's nice to meet you, Gon. I'm Killua."

Program overwritten; new target acquired: Hostile Targets non-exclusive to animal life.

Gon gave him the biggest smile he could manage.


End file.
